


Captive Virtue

by celestialenigma



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Aph north italy - Freeform, Eventual Smut, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con, Slavery, Suicidal Thoughts, a bit of abuse at the start, aph austria - Freeform, aph germany - Freeform, aph hungary - Freeform, aph liechtenstein, aph switzerland - Freeform, but they are just background characters, minor characters such as:
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-19 19:02:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7373743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celestialenigma/pseuds/celestialenigma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(AU) Lovino has been a slave for most of his life and has been shunted from owner to owner. He knows what to expect from his masters and it isn’t pretty. So when a pale-skinned, red eyed Lord Beilschmidt buys him one day, why is everything suddenly so different from all that Lovino has come to know?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I've started another. I'll finish this one though for sure because the Prumano fandom needs more fics. There's a long story as to why I stopped writing long fics for a while and you may or may not care ^^;. However I'm starting anew and decided to tackle a long fic again. Plus, this idea just wouldn't leave me alone and couldn't be written as a ficlette.

Chapter One

Harsh cold permeated the stone cell, wind blew through the barred window high up near the ceiling. Flakes of snow drifted inside, dusting the tiny area in a light layer of glittering frost. Against one of the walls lay a shivering lump under a thin blanket. The barely audible chatter of teeth was the only sound, save for the steadily nearing clomp of boots from further inside of the building.

The person under the blanket tried to crawl forward and towards the corner, hopefully out of sight. The small movements weren't fast enough as soon, dim yellow light cast into the cell. 

A tall and burly man, covered in plain brown leather armour, stomped inside. In his hands were chains and a clasp at the end, dangling down towards the floor. 

“Get up slave, you've been bought,” said the man, sounding bored and vaguely irritated. 

The lump didn't move an inch, hoping that if it didn't move, the guard would think it dead. The person under the blanket didn't even breathe.

The effort was to no avail when the guard came over, kicked the slave and bellowed, “Git your lazy ass up now.”

After crying out in pain, the slave slid the blanket down off of it's head, resting it on too thin shoulders. A mop of matted dark brown hair with one unruly curl was revealed, hazel eyes dull and listless. The slave stood, exposing the thick and heavy metal collar at his neck. The clasp of the chain in the guard’s hand attached to it.

Without another word, the slave followed the guard as he was led from the cell and down several winding corridors. The floors weren't well swept, and so the slave had to try his hardest to avoid bits of sharp rocks, jagged glass and puddles of who knew what kinds of murky liquids. Candles, nearly burnt to their holders, were the only light, so the slave winced as his feet were inevitably cut up. 

After several moments, he was led up from the basement and to the shop above. 

The store, the slave had learned, was to sell general merchandise. However they made no attempt to hide the fact that they also sold slaves on the side. It wasn't as though anybody cared about persons who did not have legal rights. 

Being that it was night, the store was closed and empty except for two other people. There was the shop keep, who leaned against the counter and looked as if she were about to fall asleep. Then there was the man who stood in the middle of the room, hands on his hips.

He wore a thick, grey-fur lined, black cloak around his frame, that covered his head, and in the dimness of the room, shrouded his face. Under his cloak was leather armour that was covered in intricate designs and hung down like a tunic. Braces were strapped to his forearms and his legs had protective thick leather boots that reached his mid thigh. The clothes underneath it all were black. To top it all off, a longsword hung at the man's side, but the slave had no doubt that other weapons were hidden on the man's person.

“Kesesese, So this is the slave you have for me?” said the man, walking over, “He looks pathetic.”

The slave bit his lip to avoid yelling. Despite how cold and desperately hungry he was, he had the energy to hate being insulted. He knew better than to put a voice to his insolent thoughts though. It only ever ended in pain. 

The warrior's warm leather covered gloves grabbed onto the slave's chin and roughly turned his head to look at both sides of it. The slave could see the stark white hair hanging down onto a pale face and red eyes. The slave was astonished at odd appearance of the man and wondered if he was of this world. He poked at the slave's ribs and stomach, much to the slave's internal chagrin.

“What's his name?” asked the warrior.

“Lovino. You can read the rest in his papers,” said the shopkeeper, getting up from the desk and lazily slinked over, producing a sheaf of papers from somewhere within the folds of her dress, “For now, I ask you to leave if that is all. I am ready to retire for the night.”

“Fine, fine. Y'know for the price I just paid for him, you think you'd be a bit more hospitable, but whatever,” said that warrior and grabbed the chain, walking to the door with haste, Lovino being dragged along. 

As soon as they hit the cold air, Lovino gasped and tried to curl into himself to warmth but didn't get the chance. The warrior opened the door to a carriage that waited for him and got in first, tugging Lovino in as well.

“Sit over on that side,” said the warrior and ,afterwards, smacked the front wall of the vehicle and yelled, “Get going.”

Lovino was happy to oblige, glad to not have to walk in the snow. His feet already tingled from the short time he spent in it and ached from the cuts he'd garnered from the poor conditions of where he'd been just kept. He wanted badly to tend to his wounds or at least hold his feet closer to himself, but he knew better. Most owners liked their slaves to obey basic manners. Instead, he opted to glare at the floor of the carriage.

“So Lovino, you will address me Lord Beilschmidt. Or you could just called me Lord Awesome if you wish,” chuckled Lord Beilschmidt. 

Lovino thought to himself that he'd rather call the man a Bastard. Instead he said, “Yes Lord Beilschmidt.”

“Good, though don't think I didn't notice the hint of stank you tinged those words with,” said Lord Beilschmidt, reaching into his cloak.

Cringing, Lovino closed his eyes, expecting a blow with a rod or a small whip. He really had tried to keep his voice respectful. It wasn't his fault that everybody in the world were fucking jerks that didn't actually deserve to be treated with anything but disdain.

A hit never came, and instead, the distinct chafing sound of a match being struck was all he heard. He cracked open an eye to see Lord Beilschmidt smirking at his reaction while lighting a hand rolled cigarette. Smoke soon billowed up from it, filling the small cabin with it's wisps of grey. 

The Lord picked up the papers, that he'd previous placed beside himself and began to read, “Says here that you've had three previous owners. You were sold by them because of bad behaviour.”

Lovino shivered and wrapped his blanket further around himself and refused to react. He really didn't want to think about his past or be forced to talk. 

“Well,” said Lord Beilschmidt, leaning forward in his seat and nearer to Lovino, “I can tell you one thing. You will not misbehave in my household, understood?”

Lovino didn't trust himself to speak, so he made a slight nod. 

Lord Beilschmidt grabbed Lovino's face with one hand, squished his cheeks together painfully and glared at him, “Let me hear it.”

Keep quiet, don't speak. Lovino desperately wanted to keep quiet. What he did, however, was say, “I nodded, what more do you want?”

Fuck. Why did his brain have to hate him? Lovino knew that he was screwed now, so just decided to go with whatever came his way.

The corners of the Lord's mouth twitched, but his face remained serious, “I want to hear you say that you understand.”

“I understand, bastard.”

Lord Beilschmidt glared and then took that hand that held Lovino and brought it down over his right cheek, causing a throbbing pain to blossom through it. 

“How dare you speak to me that way,” snarled the Lord.

Lovino spat at the pale jerk's feet. 

Just as it appeared as if Lord Beilschmidt was about to strike him again, the carriage slowed to a stop in front of a giant palace of a home. The door to the carriage was opened almost immediately by a brown haired man who had a mole near his chin and a pair of spectacles balanced on the bridge of his nose. 

“Good evening my Lord,” said the man, tilting his head forward in respect.

“Hey Specs,” said Lord Beilschmidt, getting out of the carriage and dragging Lovino with him, “Can you get Liz to whip up something to eat? I'm starved.”

As the Lord spoke, he didn't bother to move out of the snow or towards the open door of the home and seemed to radiate a look of warmth and comfort. Lovino wondered why and saw a the Lord smirk at Lovino.

Was he being punished by being forced to stand in the freezing cold? 

“Certainly my Lord,” said 'Specs', then looking Lovino up and down, “And what do we have here? Did you pick this urchin up from the streets?”

Lord Beilschmidt shook his head and said, “No. I bought him. I decided to take my brother's advice and get a personal servant to attend to my every need.”

Lovino knew what that meant and tried not to think too hard about it. He'd been a 'personal servant' before. It was degrading and he would rather kill himself.

But considering his lack of means to do so at that moment, he tried to keep his mind clear of thoughts and would consider his place later.

Specs just made a quiet hum of annoyance and said, “Ah, very well sir. Would you like me to take him?”

“I've got this,” said the Lord, who then leaned near Lovino and tried to whisper, but failed and ended up speaking with normal volume, “Are your feet getting cold yet?”

Lovino shivered in response. His feet with getting numb, “Yes.”

“Will you say that you understand now?”

Asshole. Lovino narrowed his eyes and, with his most drippingly sweet voice, said, “I understand Lord Beilschmidt.”

Expecting to be smacked again, Lovino was surprised to hear a laugh and a tug on his chain towards the inside of the house. Lovino's brows knitted and his jaw dropped. He didn't understand this man. Lovino had clearly said that in a voice full of contempt. 

He didn't think about it for long because he was dragged inside and couldn't help but sigh in relief at the warmth on his feet. The floor was made of smooth wooden planks that were covered a variety of soft rugs. Oil lamps lit the home quite well and were made of decorative glasses. Everything was neat and tidy.

Lovino was actually pretty surprised that the Lord took off his own cloak and hung it up on a hook near the entrance way. In every place that he had lived before, the butler or servants would remove the garments of the rich. It was just how things were. The Lord also removed his own boots and made sure they were set down straight.

They went up two flights of stairs until they reached the third floor. Not many people were seen. Only a small and mousey looking maid scurried by, nodding when the Lord greeted her by the name of, 'Lilli'. 

At the top of the stairs was a hallway that went left and right but the Lord took them into the room directly in front of the top of the stairs. It's door was more intricate than the others, it's edging carved with hundreds of designs that looked as if they told a story.

Once inside, the Lord went to a chair near a fireplace that was already roaring, and flopped down. He then beckoned Lovino over, as if he hadn't just been yanking him around by a chain. Grabbing the chain right up next to Lovino's metal collar Gilbert looked into the slave's eyes.

“Are you going to run in the middle of the night?” the Lord asked firmly.

Lovino had thought about that already. He thought about that every time he was purchased and sent to a new place. The answer, however, was always, “No. Where would I go?”

“Exactly. Now why don't you go draw me a bath?” said the Lord, leaning back in the chair and put his hands behind his head. 

Not really knowing what, exactly, to make of this bizarre man, Lovino looked around the room. Where was the tub? He tentatively went to one of the other doors in the huge room and opened it. It was a closet filled to the brim with junk and clothing. 

He tried another door and found a tiny bedroom. It had a cot, a wooden chest that looked covered in dust, a small stove that was just big enough to warm the room, and a window that was closed by shutters.

“That's where you will sleep when I let you,” said Gilbert without moving his head to look. 

When he let's him? 

Lovino clenched his fists tight and had to swallow back the bile that rose. That answered his question. Gilbert really did want Lovino as a sex slave. He'd hoped to never be used like that again. Though at least he had his own room. He'd never had his own room before. In the past he had been forced to sleep in a giant communal room along with all of the other slaves in a harem.

As much as he was dreading being raped, Lovino was excited to sleep on a bed for the first time in over a decade. He would thoroughly enjoy having his very own room. 

“The bath!” reminded the Lord.

Lovino closed the door of his bedroom and then went to the only remaining door. Inside it was lavish, with racks of fluffy towels, bottles of various oils and potions, as well as a large mirror. Under the tub, which was built up from the floor, was a fire pit that would be used to warm the water. 

“There's a well in a room just off the kitchen downstairs,” said the Lord once more.

Moving quick, despite his hurt feet, Lovino went back to the first floor. He'd already pushed his luck enough that night by talking back due to being generally bad at filtering his thoughts. He looked around a bit before picking a direction. Each new room that he saw, he peeked his head in. None of them were what he was looking for. 

Somebody cleared their throat behind him and Lovino jumped into the air. The butler from before, 'Specs', was standing there with his arms crossed and tapping a single foot on the floor.

“What exactly are you doing?” asked Specs, reaching out to grab a hold of Lovino's earlobe.

“Hey, fuck you don't touch me. I'm just following Lord Beilschmidt's fucking orders,” snarled Lovino, clawing at the surprisingly strong arm.

“Which were what exactly?” ask Specs, hand still on Lovino's ear.

“I need to get water to fill up his tub,” said Lovino, trying to punch that snooty butler. 

From down the hall, a female voice said, “Roderich, what are you doing to that boy?”

The Butler, Roderich, stepped back and relinquished his hold on Lovino at once. The lady had long brown hair with a flower tucked behind one ear. Her eyes were a bright green and she held a frying pan in her hands that she was drying with a towel.

“Elizabeta, this street scum was just snooping around,” defended Roderich, huffing a breath through his nose.

“Or I was trying to find some fucking water for that bas-Lord Beilschmidt's bath,” said Lovino, not about to let a fellow servant talk down to him. 

His fists were balled at his sides and he was seeing red. He hated when some slaves thought they were better than others just because they got to wear fancy clothes. It made Lovino sick. 

Elizabeta smiled kindly and placed her hand on Lovino's shoulder. Lovino smiled back, having always felt like being more friendly with women.

“Well let's get him started with carrying buckets. The Lord is never very patient, is he?” she said, walking back towards where she came, expecting everybody to follow her and called back, “Oh and Roddy, please get Vash to bring up more wood for the upstairs fires.”

To Lovino's great relief, the well was indoors. He wouldn't have to go out into the freezing cold in his bare feet in order to fetch water. The process, however, was arduous, having to go up and down the stairs with so many buckets.

At one point he passed by a cranky looking blond man who was lugging armfuls of wood. A fire had been even started under the tub to start the water heating. 

It took Lovino a half hour to fill the huge tub completely. By the time he was done and the bath was ready, Lovino realized that he hadn't heard the Lord make any noise. 

As it turned out, Lord Beilschmidt was asleep in the chair in which he was plunked himself down previously. Lovino tiptoed over to him, clearing his throat in hopes of waking him up.

No luck. 

The man just kept on sleeping.

Getting a closer look at his new master, Lovino couldn't help but note the man's attractiveness. Lord Beilschmidt was, by far, the least horrible looking of all of the people who'd previously owned Lovino. Everybody else who bought Lovino had done so because they were too hideous to find a willing lover to sleep with them, and so, resorted to slavery to meet their needs. 

His white hair even looked so soft and silky. Lovino's hand twitched out to touch it when a cackle cut through the air.

“Admiring my looks or thinking of how to kill me?” said Lord Beilschmidt while he cracked his eyes open.

Lovino jumped back and glared at the ground. That was a trick question and he knew it. If he said that he was admiring the Lord, then he'd be fucked then and there and no oils were to be seen, so the penetration would probably be dry. If he said the opposite then he'd be beaten, possibly to death.

So instead he grit out, “Your bath is ready.”

The Lord, still chuckling, said, “Ja, ja, I heard. I was just playing around. He he he. This will be fun.”

And, just like that, Lovino saw the man begin to disrobe, depositing the articles into a bin near the door to the bathing chambers. Lovino followed, staring at the floor since it was the safest place for his eyes. He heard the splash of water moving and then a moan.

“Oh this is nice, you even put some of the oils into it. Specs never does that,” said Lord Beilschmidt.

Having deemed it safe to look up Lovino did so and, not entirely comfortably, watched and awaited an order. None came. Lovino felt unnerved. He had no idea what was to come and why this man didn't get Lovino to do everything for him like all of the others. 

Soon, Lord Beilschmidt stood up and said, “Grab one of those towels will you. I forgot to grab one. Usually I have to soak the floor walking over to that rack. Hey you're already coming in handy.”

Lovino pursed his lips and said nothing. His feet hurt and the cuts stung and really needed to be cleaned out. He was tired and starving and wanted to sit. 

“Okay your turn,” said Lord Beilschmidt, pointing to the water that was, surprisingly, not as dirty as it could have been.

“W-what?” stammered Lovino, eyes wide. 

“You stink and are filthy. Get in,” said the pale skinned man, not looking over, just scrubbing at his head with a towel.

Moving automatically, Lovino went for a towel and then, with hands that shook, removed his clothes. He wasn't shy about his own nudity, having lived in many communal setting before, even though he didn't even feel Lord Beilschmidt stare at him. However he knew that him having a bath meant that he'd be fucked that night. Before he could even get some sleep.

Lord Beilschmidt left the room and Lovino sank into the still hot water, closed his eyes and fought the urge to both fall asleep and the burning of tears in his eyes. He wondered if he could drown himself and sunk into the liquid without the bother of a plugged nose. He held his breath and felt the burn in his lungs before his subconscious self preservation forced him to rise, splashing water around himself, and gasped for breath. 

Shit. 

He was a coward.

With a sigh of resignation, Lovino washed his body. He'd better hurry and hope that his Master would be happy that he was quick at cleaning and go easy on him.

#

When he was clean and dry, Lovino went out into the bedroom completely naked, prepared to be jumped at any moment. The air away from the fires was chilled but he was used to that, despite what the goosebumps that rose on his skin would reveal. 

From the other side of the room came a smell of food that made Lovino's stomach rumble with intense hunger. He placed a hand over his belly to try to calm it, convince it that it wasn't so empty.

Lord Beilschmidt was at a table that was set for two and looked over to the bathroom.

Lovino expected some sort of lewd comment or look.

Instead what he got was a blush and Lord Beilschmidt looked away and said, “Your clothing is on your bed. Next time wrap a towel around yourself. Come out when you're done.”

Blinking several times, Lovino did as he was told and moved rapidly to his room. 

'What the hell was that?' thought Lovino to himself, 'Is the bastard shy or something? But he got undressed in front of me before.'

That didn't seem right but oh well. 

Lovino put on the plain tunic, slacks and shoes. They were more than he'd had in ages and was very grateful to have clothing that wasn't rags. Though when the Lord Beilschmidt had spoke of clothing, Lovino had thought it would have been more sultry than the boring garments that he was given. Not that he was going to complain. 

When he went out into the other room his new master was still slowly working at a heaping plate of food. The other side of the table was set and filled with food. 

Oh crap. Was somebody else coming? Was Lovino expected to let another person fuck him? It wouldn't be the first time but he still liked to at least mentally prepare himself for several people to be taking him. 

So he stood, not sure what to do and where to go before Lord Beilschmidt snapped, “Geez, sit down. Do you have to be told to do everything?”

Lovino sat down on the ground before the other man grumbled under his breath and added, “Sit across from me.”

Doing as he was told with a scathing glare and clenched fists, Lovino sat on the velvet covered chair. He couldn't believe that he had to sit here and keep the chair warm for whoever the fuck was going to arrive. He also couldn't believe that the man before him was so cruel as to tease Lovino with an amazing smelling plate of food. 

In all honesty, the contents weren't the most appealing to Lovino. Or wouldn't have been years ago.

When Lovino had more choices in what he ate when he was much younger, he'd always hated potatoes. Lovino thought potatoes were gross brown lumps and they smelled weird when uncooked. Yet on the plate were heaps of roasted cubes of spuds. However with as starved as Lovino was, the golden browned cooked food looked like heaven. 

There were also mounds of some brown meat and a vegetable. In the mug beside the plate was beer. 

“If you aren't going to eat it then let me,” said Lord Beilschmidt as he reached out with a fork. 

Lovino gasped and said, “I can eat this?”

Lord Beilschmidt stopped mid stab of a potato and said, “Um, ja? Unless you are some sort of magical slave that doesn't need to be fed.”

Not needing to be told twice, Lovino dug in with relish. He shovelled food into his mouth so fast that he gagged once or twice and almost choked himself. All he'd been fed at the slave market had been one small bowl of slops a day and a slice of stale bread at the end of the week. He had wondered to himself how he was still alive after such meagre portions.

Once his plate had been licked clean, Lovino drank the foamy beer with relish. He'd had beer before, but never anything of quality. It had all been cheap stuff that fellow slaves would be able to get their hands on. The stuff that Lord Beilschmidt had given him was amazing.

“Whoa, uh. Wow!” said Lord Beilschmidt when Lovino placed the empty flagon down on the table, “I don't even think my younger brother can drink beer so fast.”

Lovino looked up to see astonishment in the Lord's red eyes as well as something else that Lovino simply could not identify. There wasn't disgust, however, at eating in such an impolite way. 

It was then that Lovino decided that if he got warm clothes, his own bed and decent food, that he wouldn't mind letting this guy fuck him. He'd just wait for the order as to where Lord Beilschmidt wanted him to lay.

Hearing the scrape of a chair being pushed back, Lord Beilschmidt stood and cleared his throat, “Well anyway, I am going to sleep. I expect you up early and ready to work.”

The man lay down under his covers, and closed his eyes. Lovino sat bewildered for several minutes before Lord Beilschmidt said, “Go to your own room will you? And also, I'm a light sleeper and I have a dagger under my pillow so don't even think of killing me in my sleep.”

Lovino went to his own room, surprised to find that he hadn't noticed that the small stove had been lit and that the room was warm.

He lay down on his cot and stared at the ceiling, utterly confused. Lovino had no idea what to do or expect. All he knew was that he was too tired to ponder any further on the subject.

Soon enough he was fast asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in this. I went on vacation and then, at the end, had to go to the hospital. I'm fine now, I was just mostly without decent internet for all of the time. I also didn't get much computer time either. Haha. As soon as I got home I wrote this all out since I had it written in my mind.

Chapter Two

As it turned out, when Lord Beilschmidt said that he wanted somebody up early in order to work, he really meant early. 

Lovino had barely begun to stir even though used to early wake up times. He'd often envied the lazy Lords that he'd worked under in the past who were allowed to sleep in until nearly noon if they so felt the desire. There'd been times where he'd daydreamed about being able to lay sprawled in bed, toasty under three or four thick blankets, somebody else to wait at his every beck and call. Was it wrong of him to want a servant as well?

Probably.

But no, he'd pay his workers. They wouldn't be bound to him in any way. If they didn't like the terms of his service, they'd be free to leave if they wanted. Lovino would have the money to do so-

Lovino was shaken out of his waking dreams when he felt a kick to his bed, which made him jump up to sitting. 

“What are you doing still asleep?” said Lord Beilschmidt.

Lovino blinked up with hazy eyes and looked around the room. Outside the sky was still as dark as pitch, nary a ray of sunlight to be seen. The Lord stood with his arms crossed and an arched brow. At the end of Lovino's bed was another pile of clothing. Much of it looked warmer than what he'd been given the night before. There was even a cloak. On the floor was a plain and very basic pair of leather boots. 

“You will need to learn to wake up earlier if you wish to continue to live here,” said the Lord with a bite to his words. 

The man was completely dressed, which never ceased to amaze Lovino. He'd always have to dress his masters, so incompetent were they. 

“Um, sorry,” said Lovino even though he didn't feel sorry at all. By the look of the moon outside of the winter frosted window, Lovino guessed that the sun would rise in three hours. 

“Ja, well food is on the table in my room. Eat fast because I have already done so,” said the Lord, turning heel and leaving, “You have ten minutes to get ready and eat.”

Stomach still rumbling painfully from so many months of near starvation despite the food the previous night, Lovino threw on his new clothes faster than he ever had before, wincing and ignoring the throb of pain in his untreated wounds in his feet. He ran out into the room and smelled more heaven and saw more potatoes. There was also bread, eggs, and strips of meat. To top it all off, there was a steaming mug full of coffee. It seemed as if his plate had been heaped higher than it had the night before. 

Lovino was sure that it was just his imagination though and stuffed his belly full of every scrap of food on the plate. 

Meanwhile, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lord Beilschmidt begin gather items from a large and decorative wooden cabinet at the one side of the room. From the angle at which Lovino sat he couldn't, for the life of him, see into it or figure out what his new owner was doing. 

Soon, however, the door was snicked shut and locked with a silver key that hung around Lord Beilschmidt's neck. 

“Let's go,” said Lord Beilschmidt, headed in the direction of the door. 

Lovino hopped to his still sore feet, not in any place to complain after all of the luxuries that he'd been gifted with. He grabbed onto his warm cloak and began to follow behind the Lord's brisk pace. That time around, Lovino did not see any of the other slaves around but heard some sounds from another room that were much like bickering. It almost sounded as if the voices belonged to Roderich and Elizabeta from the night before. 

Lord Beilschmidt, as if talking to himself, said, “Ah married couples. I'm so happy being alone anyway so it doesn't matter.”

Lovino said, “Sir?”

Despite his almost wistful sounding words, the Lord looked back at Lovino with a strange look and said, “I wasn't talking to you. Let's get a move on.”

Donning his cloak and boots as quickly as possible, Lord Beilschmidt threw open the doors, Lovino flinching at the blast of cold air that burst inside. The sky was dark still, the bright moon making the snow sparkle in their piles and atop the branches of trees. 

The carriage had been drawn up to the front, the grumpy blond man from before who'd lugged up the wood at the reins. Lovino hadn't noticed him as the driver from last night, but then again it had been cold, dark, and the driver had been shrouded in a thick cloak. 

“You daydream a lot you know that?” said Lord Beilschmidt, clucking his tongue and tugging Lovino into the horse drawn vehicle. 

“So?” Lovino spurted out before allowing his mouth to remain quiet. 

“Simply an observation, just so long as it doesn't interfere with your work like it was just now,” said Lord Beilschmidt.

“It was not,” said Lovino, eyebrows furrowed, “I stood for only a moment.”

“More like ten,” Lord Beilschmidt shot right back, “Mouth gaped and staring at everything like a newborn calf.”

“Bastard,” said Lovino, glaring at the ground. 

“Watch your tone boy,” said Lord Beilschmidt, “But as I said I don't care so long as you don't dawdle.”

“Yes sir.” 

The rest of the ride was quiet save for the chuff of a match and the lighting of a cigarette. Pleasant smelling smoke filled the air and Lovino breathed out in relief that that conversation hadn't ended in a beating. Neither spoke any further and Lovino dared to look up and stare at Lord Beilschmidt. The man stared out of the carriage with an odd look upon his face. His red eyes seemed far away and Lovino was once again struck by the thought that his new owner was other worldly. 

When the vehicle slowed to a stop after about an hour, the sound of horse hooves ceased, and the door was opened. Lord Beilschmidt snubbed out the rest of his smoke just outside into a pile of snow. His driver was not to be seen. Instead there was a priest dressed in head to toe in robes and crosses. 

“Your holiness,” said the Priest while looking at Lord Beilschmidt, “I am glad that you could make it today.”

Lovino raised a single brow and stared at the back of Lord Beilschmidt's head as he got out of the carriage and stepped out onto the frosty stone path. Your Holiness? What in the world?

“I've told you before to call me Gilbert,” said Lord Beilschmidt with a smirk curving his lips. 

“In all honesty Your Holiness, I would never be able to do such a disrespect to you.”

“Whatever,” said Lord Beilschmidt, Gilbert, “So what are we dealing with this time?”

“A tainted creature has been captured and held in the basement.”

The three of them went inside of modestly sized family home. Though whatever family had once lived there was no longer around. The insides were devoid of people and furniture was overturned and strewn about. Deep gouges covered the floors and even parts of the wooden chairs and couches. An acrid smell hung in the air, thick and nauseating. 

“Alright Brother Kennith, your work here has been appreciated. My assistant and I can take things from here.”

Brother Kennith made a half bow, hands together as if he were praying, and said, “Yes Your Holiness.”

Then the priest left and closed the door to the house behind him. 

Lord Beilschmidt clapped his hands together once and turned on his heels to stare at a bewildered looking Lovino. From out of his cloak the Lord pulled out and handed to Lovino: a dagger, a few vials of clear liquid, a fabric sack filled with what felt like sand, and a book that Lovino could barely hold onto. 

“Follow me close and do everything I say without question,” said Lord Beilschmidt, eyes boring into Lovino's own. 

What was going on? Why? Lovino hadn't felt so confused. He wanted to put voice to his muddled thoughts, but all he said was, “What will happen if I don't?”

“You will die,” said Lord Beilschmidt with a serious and firm face, “And not by my hand either.”

Lord Beilschmidt pulled out a long, thin sword for himself and headed to through the house, as if drawn by a beacon that Lovino couldn't see. Lovino followed carefully with widened eyes. He was used to the threat of death from disobedience but not from doing a dangerous job. Was Lord Beilschmidt not aware that Lovino was more of 'an around the home' sort of slave. 

Lovino followed, trembling and drips of sweat rolling down the side of his face, he peered down the stair that Lord Beilschmidt had just descended. The darkness that seeped out felt bizarre and supernatural and chilled Lovino to his bones. Lord Beilschmidt waltzed down the stone steps with his back straight, a smirk suddenly plastered on his face and he turned to Lovino and said, “Come on. It's time to work.”

He didn't have a chance to get a word in edge-wise as Lord Beilschmidt began to chant words in a language that was completely foreign to Lovino. The sound was wonderful and melodious and they seemed to floated from the pale Master's lips. As they reached the bottom of the long staircase, Beilschmidt began to wave his blade before him in some sort of pattern. 

At first, Lovino saw nothing but pure darkness, one that was felt, for some reason, that not even a flame could penetrate. However then a soft glow came from Lord Beilschmidt, gentle at first but growing brighter and brighter, tinged with blue, until it filled the whole basement with it's radiance. Lord Beilschmidt never ceased his chanting and runic patterns became visible as if they were being sliced into the air with the blade. 

It was then that Lovino noticed the creature in the corner. 

Hunched over, Lovino could still tell that it was huge, tall that was. It was incredibly slender and Lovino see it's spine spiked out through the kin. The thing slavered, the glow from Lord Beilschmidt shone off of the droll that had dribbled from it's mouth full of hundreds of sharp teeth. It's black claws sunk into the solid stone, making it seem like butter as it sliced through.

It looked up at Beilschmidt and gave a feral howl that neared deafened Lovino. 

“Fowl beast of the underworld: Begone from this mortal coil,” chanted Lord Beilschmidt, with a still ever so slight tinge of arrogance to his words. 

Lovino's legs wobbled and his jaw dropped. He had no idea what to make of this thing, let alone what it even was. He wanted to run as far away as he could.

Lord Beilschmidt sent a blast of light forth that was made up of all of the glowing runes that he'd created in the air. The creature was hit at once and threw it's head back, howling out it's rage. It stopped moving entirely. Lord Beilschmidt had his hands raised, long blade in one of his hands. 

“Lovino, approach the beast now,” said Lord Beilschmidt.

“W-What? Now way, I'll die,” said Lovino, who even though he'd wanted to die just the previous night, no longer felt that urge. At least he didn't want to die that way. That is: being gobbled up by a beast with disgusting and mottled skin.

“Do as I say now,” snapped Lord Beilschmidt, who then took a loud and deep breath and then added in a far calmer voice, “You need to trust me even though you've only known me for less than a day. It won't hurt you if you do as I say.”

Lovino felt frozen. He didn't want to approach the creature but he also knew better than to disobey a master. It didn't matter how much the Master tried to use a gentle voice and an insistence that whatever task wouldn't hurt if Lovino just did as he was asked. That it wouldn't be by the masters own hand. Lovino knew that if he ran away to get far from the monster, that Lord Beilschmidt would track him down and beat him.

“'Okay,” whispered Lovino, “What do I do?”

“Go place the book in your hands in front of the foul beast, open face. The page doesn't matter,” said Beilschmidt, standing stock still, “Then jam the dagger you are holding into it's skin and dump the vial inside of the would that is made.”

Doing as he'd been told, Lovino crept forth, surprised to see that the creature didn't move an inch or even look towards him. The book, inside, was blank, which Lovino didn't bother to question right then. He reached forward, trying to keep as much of his body away from the beast as possible while still able to do as his Master had bid. 

Lovino stuck the dagger in, only to find it barely made a nick in the astoundingly thick flesh. He had to grab the hilt of the tiny blade with both hands and shove to get it inside. He couldn't remove it, the blade sticking inside, so he had to wiggle it around and then dump the vial quickly in the small space that he made. 

“Jump back,” called Lord Beilschmidt, right before he went back to chanting.

Lovino did so at once. 

The blue glow began to swirl around the creature and the liquid sizzled like an acid, its bubbles multiplying in amount until it consumed the creature. Soon all that remained was a puddle on the stone, which slowly crept towards the book on the ground and was absorbed inside. 

Then, before Lovino knew it, the room was once again dark, but normally so. Lovino could even see a thin and dim strip of light coming from a partially blocked window up near the ceiling. The blade remained on the ground.

“Wow. My brother was right. This is much easier with help,” said Lord Beilschmidt, turning to Lovino and clapping the slave on the shoulder, “Good job.”

Lovino felt as if his legs would give out under him and he stared wide-eyed at Lord Beilschmidt, “W-what?”

“You didn't hear me?” said Beilschmidt, brow risen, “I said good job.”

“N-no. What was that?” said Lovino, too shocked to bother with keeping his thoughts to himself.

“A demon, wasn't that obvious?” said Lord Beilschmidt, scratching his chin, “Maybe I forget that not everybody knows about them. Hmm, anyway. Let's go and don't be slow. I'm busy today.”

Lovino trailed behind and thinned his lips. He had been given away from all of his previous owners because of disobedience. That was simply because he didn't have a good sense of self preservation. He'd be able to keep his mouth shut for only so long before he would burst out in a stream of caustic words. 

“Like hell I will. You just had me stab some weird thing and you started doing magic or something and up until just now I didn't even know that sort of stuff existed. So why don't you explain something you idiotic damn bastard?” yelled Lovino, internally cringing when he finished. 

To be honest with himself, sometimes Lovino wondered how he hadn't been outright killed years ago. He was terrible at being an obedient slave. 

Turning on his heels, Lord Beilschmidt had his red eyes narrowed directly at Lovino. He walked up to Lovino slowly, his boots hardly made a sound as they touched the floor. Lord Beilschmidt clenched his fists. Lovino backed away, no longer glaring defiantly but staring off to the side.

“You will never speak to me that way again,” said Lord Beilschmidt, ice dripping from his words and his hand slapped onto Lovino's shoulder, his fingers dug in tight, “I am your owner and you will respect me.”

Lovino felt bad. This owner had given Lovino more than he'd ever had as a slave: clothes, food, a room to himself. Lord Beilschmidt just asked for obedience and Lovino couldn't even do that. The Lord still had only hit him that one time when they were in the carriage. 

However as bad as he felt, Lovino's mind felt empty and he couldn't think of the words to say or respond him. Not even a sorry could squeak by his lips. 

Lord Beilschmidt groaned and said, “I thought that thing with making you stand in the snow and the smack in the carriage would be good enough. I mean, I like your snark, but I don't appreciate being called names. Do you think I should punish you some more?”

A moment went by before Lovino looked up at Lord Beilschmidt's cough. Lovino whispered, “Are you asking me?”

“Well ja? Why else would I have said that question out loud? Nobody else is here. Man I am far less than awesome at this owning a slave thing. Just tell me if I should punish you.”

Lovino looked up, met his Master's eyes and felt his lower lip wobble, “My other owners would have had me beaten bloody for such words.”

White brows knitted together, Lord Beilschmidt said, “Seriously?”

Lovino rather thought such practice was obvious. Such ignorance of basic society brought back his memories of moments before screaming back at him. Who was this man? He felt a need to know more. 

“Of course, that happens to most slaves,” said Lovino, trying to keep his words respectable shifting on the spot, ignoring the pain in his injured foot. 

“Oh. I didn't know that,” said Beilschmidt, scratching his head and then adding, “Well I don't want to do that. How about when we go to the next place, you can carry all of my gear as punishment?”

Lovino nodded and watched Lord Beilschmidt turn to go back up the stairs. This time Lovino followed without a word.

That did not mean that his mind wasn't swirling in thought.

#

The day had been long and tiring. 

The first stop after killing, or whatever, the beast in the basement, was going to a church and walking over the entirety of it's grounds. Lord Beilschmidt would chant various words and cast out little glowing blue runes from his fingertips. 

True to his word, Lord Beilschmidt made Lovino carry a giant pack, as well as anything that he acquired in his journeys. 

The second and third places were wandering around cemeteries. More chanting, more runes. More long walks that made Lovino's foot ache to the point that it was agony. 

The fourth place had involved standing still in front of person's home and waiting for a few hours for who knew what reason. Lovino had not been allowed to sit. More punishment for the name calling from before. 

By the time the carriage pulled up to the front door as the sun had descended below the treeline, Lovino was desperately trying to hide his limping. He didn't want to be seen as inferior and be sold off to a Master who would beat him. Not that Lovino still trusted Lord Beilschmidt to not hit him, but it wasn't a certain as before. 

As they ascended the stairs, Lord Beilschmidt said, “Draw me a bath.”

Each step up sent pain shooting up Lovino's foot and tears brimming his eyes. He was in desperate need to lay down and ease his aches. That wouldn't happen. There was no rest for a slave. He turned to go back downstairs and stepped in a way that made his foot twist and his skin pull at the bloody wounds that he knew were trying in vain to heal on his foot. A cry of pain escaped him and his legs quivered with the need to collapse, to not be standing.

“What's with you?” asked Lord Beilschmidt, not unkindly. 

“Nothing sir,” said Lovino, trying to continue down the stairs. 

He continued, that was, until he found himself slung over the shoulder of Lord Beilschmidt. Instantly his breathing became rapid and his chest began to hurt. He didn't know what was happening. More punishment for mouthing off earlier?

Soon he was in Lord Beilschmidt's room and was plunked in a chair. Lord Beilschmidt stood before him with his arms crossed and frowning.

“You can't keep up to me if you are injured. You'll be useless to me. I noticed you limping before. Did me making you stand in the snow last night hurt your feet that much?” said Lord Beilschmidt.

Lovino thinned his lips and glared at the floor. To admit to injuries was not something he would ever do. He'd usually wait until another slave noticed his wounds and help Lovino fix them. He usually just ignored his problems.

“Answer me,” said Beilschmidt, obviously as impatient as Lovino himself. 

“My foot hurts from before you bought me.”

“Which foot?”

“It's my right one that hurts.”

Looking down at Lovino as if considering something, Lord Beilschmidt then knelt down in front of Lovino and began to untie the slave's boot. The footwear was carefully removed and set aside. Lord Beilschmidt took Lovino's foot with his hands and inspected the bottom carefully. 

Lord Beilschmidt carefully lowered Lovino's foot and then left the room without a word.

Lovino's breathing stopped, his eyes wide. This was new and strange and he had no idea what was happening. He wanted to run, he wanted to stay, he wanted to hurl himself onto his cot and hide under his blankets. 

The Lord came back after several minutes. He had a cloth in his hands and a bowl of water that had faint wisps of steam rising from it. There was also a jar of green stuff in his other hand and white bandages. Then he knelt back down and took a hold of Lovino's foot again. 

“My awesome powers don't extend to the realm of healing. So I'll have to wrap your wounds this way,” said Lord Beilschmidt with jovial lift of his lips.

“Sure,” whispered Lovino.

 

His heart skipped a beat as the pale and confusing man of higher station knelt before him, a slave, and tenderly wiped at his cuts. Lovino usually hated cold fingers touching him but Lord Beilschmidt's fingers were pleasantly cold, not at all clammy. They caressed his skin as they applied a poultice of herbs to the wounds and then wrapped the clothes around Lovino's foot. 

“There! Good as new,” said Lord Beilschmidt, patting Lovino's knee, “Just for tonight I've got Vash to fill my water for me as he used to.”

Then Lord Beilschmidt went and sat in front of the fire, a book in his hand that had been on the table beside his chair. 

When 'Vash', the grumpy man with jagged blonde hair, had filled the tub, Lovino found himself limp inside before Lord Beilschmidt could enter. He carefully stirred oils and herbs into the plain water and set out a clean drying cloth close enough for Lord Beilschmidt to reach. He jumped when the door was opened.

“You didn't have to do this,” said Lord Beilschmidt with an odd tone to his voice once more. It sounded almost similar to the one he'd had when he saw Lovino eat the previous night.

Feeling a bit safer to be verbal without yelling and insulting, Lovino said, “I wanted to.”

And he brushed by Lord Beilschmidt with his head lowered in respect. 

This man had so far been going far to earn his respect as an owner. 

Lovino decided to ask somebody later about the weird powers and the demon they'd fought. For now, he'd try to be the best slave that he could be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hope that you don't mind that supernatural element that I added. I wanted it to be a surpirse, so I didn't mention it in the description or tags. 
> 
> Anyway, it may be confusing now but everything will be explained.


End file.
